


Nothing but the Candle in the Mirror

by BardsandNoble



Category: Dalton Academy Series, Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsandNoble/pseuds/BardsandNoble
Summary: AU for CP Coulter's Dalton, based loosely on Great Comet by Dave Malloy. Larythe-centric in 19th century Paris. Probably will allude to Sebrek and Jogan...but you'll have to join me on this journey to find out. :)
Relationships: Julian Larson-Armstrong/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Nothing but the Candle in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [senator_princess_general](https://archiveofourown.org/users/senator_princess_general/gifts).



> Howdy. This is likely going to be the longest work I write, and my first AU based on another work of fiction, and my first true Larythe work, so comments/reviews are appreciated! Thank you.

With a rush of cold air, the man exited the opera. Even without feeling the December chill let in from the Parisian streets, Julian would have noticed him slip out. He’d found it quite impossible not to notice the man’s whereabouts as he moved through the crowds and mingled with nobility after the opera, the whole experience leaving Julian feeling entranced.

 _Prince Smythe_ was the name he heard in hushed whispers when the unpunctual yet handsome man strode down the aisle mid-act. Yes, Julian was sure he heard the name at some other gathering, some ball or another, but it had been so long now since the young count had last been to France that he hadn’t known just how attractive the prince grew with age. The way he practically waltzed about, moving with a cocky swagger, might have been too ridiculous if it were anyone else. But it suited Prince Sebastian; he was good-looking, Julian could admit.

He wasn’t as certain, however, of whether he had become slightly too intoxicated, or if the prince had actually been looking at him every time Julian chanced a glance. There was no mistaking how deliberately their eyes met when he first passed the Larsons’ box, no mistaking that he acknowledged Julian directly with a low, “ _Mais charmant_.” But was that simply politeness? And had he really winked at him over his shoulder just now as he was walking out the door?

Julian decided there was only one way to find out. Excusing himself from the warm, perfumed crowd under the guise of needing some fresh air, he donned his coat and headed out into the brisk night. At first, there was no sign of Smythe, and Julian considered heading back. What would he say anyway if he found him? Just then, he saw a figure, down the street, on a bridge, and all thought of turning around left his mind. His feet seemed to move toward the man of their own accord.

When Smythe noticed his approach, turning to face him, Julian felt a rush of cold air again, and tightened the cloak around himself protectively. When the prince smiled, a cheerful and good-natured grin, any of the opening lines Julian had brainstormed on his way over promptly flew from his mind.

“I had wondered if you’d follow, and I’m so glad you did. I have long wished to have the happiness of properly meeting you, ever since the Van Kamp’s ball, where I had the well-remembered pleasure of first seeing you.” Prince Sebastian took one of Julian’s hands in his own and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles as if he were greeting a noble lady, not another gentleman. Julian felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I remember you as well, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about you anymore.”

“I doubt I know everything about you either, but I do know I’m enjoying your company.”

They discussed the performance, making small talk, and all the while, Julian tried to properly assess the prince. He was bold and natural, strange yet agreeable, all at once. He couldn’t sense anything formidable up front, and he supposed that smirk would be almost charming if you were stupid enough to buy it. _Though he really is as handsome up close as at a distance_... Perhaps Julian was buying it more than he’d care to admit.

“Oh, and Julian, did you know my family is holding our own ball soon? You ought to come,” his green eyes glittered with excitement. “ _Please_ come.”

“Oh, I...” Julian hesitated, intrigued, but uncertain how his mother would feel about him attending the Smythes’ event. He wasn't even sure how he felt about attending. All the time, those smiling eyes wandered over his face, down the slightly exposed skin of his neck, and roamed freely over his body. Even wrapped in furs, Julian had never felt so exposed.

“ _Vous êtes à Paris_ , where’s your sense of adventure?” When he looked him directly in the eye, Julian was frightened by the implication. It was like Sebastian had seen right through him from the start, and the barrier he kept up around most men had been removed. Sebastian knew, and he suddenly felt too near. Julian half expected, maybe feared or worse, wanted, Sebastian would do something adventurous. He might come closer, seize him, kiss him--

 _Merde_. “How do you like Paris?” Julian finally rushed out to fill the tense silence, flustered.

Luckily, Sebastian accepted the change in subject. Or so he thought. “At first, I did not like it much because what makes a town pleasant... _ce sont des jolis hommes_.” He spoke the words so casually that Julian almost wasn’t sure he’d heard them right if it weren't for that ridiculous smirk. “Isn’t that so? But now,” and there were those damn eyes looking Julian over once more. “I like it. _Very much, indeed_.”

Julian tried to keep his face level, though his eyes widened with every daring word out of Sebastian’s mouth, and if the prince kept closing the gap between them like this, he wouldn’t be able to hide how rapid his heartbeat had become.

“Come to the ball, Julian. Do come. You will be the loveliest there.”

“What is that, some trick that works on all your women?” He didn’t even believe his own false confidence anymore, but he had to say something.

“I don’t have women, but I bet any woman here tonight would be so lucky to be where you are now.”

“You’re so lucky to still be where you are now because I ought to hurl you off this bridge, or have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” Julian huffed indignantly, flushed, and turned to look out at the river, at the city, at anything that wasn’t the foolishly forward prince.

Sebastian’s expression shifted to one of curiosity, as well as something softer. “We are only speaking of ordinary things. Is it that you fear your mother would mind you being seen in my company? A complete stranger with a bit of a...reputation?”

“My mother has enough to worry about, she trusts my decisions and doesn’t question my whereabouts. So long as nothing bad gets back to her.” What he didn’t say to Sebastian was that he actually feared how he felt closer to him than with any other person, particularly another man. It was all so new, so frightening, yet no one else was there. No one else could see them. _And those piercing eyes_ …

“It’s alright, Julian. I’m here.”

 _Nothing between us_. A noise from someone departing the opera house broke their reverie.

“My friends will be wondering where I’ve gone.” And before anyone could see anything worth questioning, Julian hastily retreated back to reconvene with his party, leaving the smiling prince to his thoughts on the bridge.

* * *

“Julian!”

Julian was relieved to see Clark’s friendly smile first when he reentered the foyer of the opera house.

“We were wondering where you ran off to. Are you alright?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

Julian must have betrayed some amount of confusion and discomfort, but he flashed his most convincing smile. “I’m fine, my friend. It just got a bit stuffy in here, is all.”

This answer seemed to satisfy Clark for the moment. “Well, if you’re sure you are well, Patrick was thinking we continue to enjoy the evening in town.”

“Of course he would, and I’m sure his idea of ‘enjoying the evening’ means drunken debauchery?”

“But of course, it does. Have you forgotten who we’re speaking of?” Clark laughed. “The main problem being we haven’t yet sorted out where Parisians go to get their fill of debauchery.”

“Did somebody say ‘debauchery’?”

Julian nearly jumped as Prince Sebastian reappeared at his side seemingly out of nowhere.

“Prince Sebastian,” he introduced himself, offering a handshake to Clark, smirking. “I know a place.”


End file.
